blushed.
âBoys can be a handful,â Rhett said.
âTell me about it.â Emily chuckled. âI have four brothers.â
âMove, Ronald!â a woman shouted.
Out of nowhere, Ronald Gump stumbled toward Emily. The eagle-headed cane he was carrying flipped forward, but he kept his grip. When had he started using that? Shane steadied Ronald and Emily at the same time. Poor Ronald appeared startled. His usually styled salt-and-pepper hair was sticking out in every direction. He pushed his glasses higher on his narrow nose.
Shane stared daggers at Ronaldâs wife, Sylvia, who was in her midfifties and so thin she reminded me of a fancy candy stick dipped in white icing, her white hair slick to the sides of her head, her mouth swathed with silver lipstick to match her sleek silver clothes and scads of jewelry. Silver was always the color of the day for Sylvia. Even the cell phone in her hand was encased in sparkling silver.
âWhatâs your problem?â she said to Shane.
âWhatâs going on?â he demanded.
âThe line was moving.â Sylvia entered some urgent message into her phone, or at least it seemed urgent. She was stabbing the buttons. âRonald wasnât paying attention, like always.â
âWell,
we
werenât moving,â Shane said.
âSorry,â Ronald mumbled.
âIâm not,â Sylvia countered.
Emily tugged Shaneâs arm and said, âLetâs go home.â
âNo, weâre staying.â
âHow very like you, Shane,â Sylvia said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. âYou never let the lady choose.â
Shane jutted his chin. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
Uh-oh. I got the distinct feeling there was a history between Shane and Sylvia. Had he had a liaison with Sylvia on one of his jaunts to town for the extravaganza? She was older than he was, but that didnât mean anything. Was it before he started up with Emily or, um, after?
Emily frowned at Sylvia like she was imagining the same thing I was. âShane.â She pulled on his arm again. âPlease.â
Shane didnât budge.
âSylvia, dearââRonald nudged his glasses up his nose againââyouâre on edge. I get that. Itâs terribly difficult when the world doesnât go your way, but donât lash out at innocent bystanders.â
âInnocent?â Sylvia spun on her heel. âItâs all because of you.â She lasered me with a wicked stare.
âMe?â I squeaked.
âYour father and that Ava Judge. Theyâre trying to throw me off my game.â
âWhat game?â Rhett whispered.
âProperty rights.â
âIâve hired a lawyer.â Sylvia flourished her cell phone. Her lawyerâs name gleamed across the top. I knew him. He was a real shark.
âDear, donât,â Ronald mumbled.
âDonât what? Donât tell it like it is? The legal route is the only route.â
Ronald leaned on his cane and struggled to pull a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet. It fluttered into the air. He groped for it, missed, and teetered forward. I reached for him. So did Rhett. Surprisingly, so did Sylvia. Ronald grasped her hand, but his cane skittered and lost its hold on the walkway, and he pitched forward with Sylvia in tow.
âHoly mother ofââ Sylvia landed on her rump. She glowered at her husband and, grunting, clambered to herfeet. She brushed off her clothes. âSee what youâve done, you doddering fool?â
He crawled on his knees and gathered the twenty-dollar bill, then used his cane as a prop to support himself as he rose.
âDonât,â Sylvia continued to rant. âI repeat,
donât
try to manage me, Ronald. Those two are banding against me. The entire neighborhood is. Including him.â She seared Shane with a glance.
âI donât own the house yet,â Shane argued.
âMinor
John Warren, Libby Warren
F. Paul Wilson, Alan M. Clark